


Poisoned Moon

by MaraMcGregor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Talk of Deliberate Self-Mutilation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraMcGregor/pseuds/MaraMcGregor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is stalking the Preserve. It has the pack on edge. The past that Chris and Peter have kept long buried is about to resurface and cause them to question themselves and reexamine everything they have felt since they were teenagers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Walk In The Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Thanks so much to SydnieWren for beta-ing this piece for me! Happy Holidays again to Shewolf and thanks for the wonderful prompts.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Jeff Davis and MTV.

The silence was deafening. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the barren trees, elongating shadows and making the hush even more unsettling. Ever since Chris had threatened to put a bullet in Peter’s head if he didn’t _shut up_ immediately, the hunter had been on edge, just waiting for the last wolf he wanted to be paired with to say something else. Peter always knew exactly what to say to push his buttons. Chris resolved to kill Scott.

The teenaged Alpha came to him, asking for his help tracking an unknown entity in the Preserve. Chris thought Scott was being paranoid, but the boy insisted that every time he entered a certain section, he felt like he was being stalked. Considering there were very few creatures that would be bold enough to stalk an alpha werewolf on their own territory, Chris agreed to lend a hand. He just didn’t know that he would be stuck with Peter because no one else trusted him to have their backs if something really did go down.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his hand tighter around the grip of his Desert Eagle and glared at the trees. The only thing stopping him from shooting the werewolf right then and there was that he was on a tracking mission. Shooting Peter would just draw the attention of whatever it was wandering around in these woods. He was so deep in thought, that when a hand reached out and touched his arm, he brought his gun to bear on the smaller man.

Peter rolled his eyes and let go. “Scott’s right. There’s something here.”

“Something? Can’t you hone in on it better than that?”

Peter shook his head. His eyebrows pinched slightly together. “I can feel it, but there’s something masking the scent. It’s like I can _almost_ catch its scent, but it vanishes the moment I focus on it.”

Chris nodded his acknowledgement. “Can you get a direction of the feeling?”

“A general direction, sure. But, that’s not going to do much good if this thing is planning an ambush.”

“I’ll take it. We can report back and regroup. We need a better plan than ‘go find the bad feeling’.”

Peter’s head languidly turned to the hunter. “That anxious to pass me off to someone else?”

Chris turned away from the werewolf and grunted.

Peter’s lips tilted up at the corner. He always got such extreme satisfaction at scratching at the sore spots. They were done here, for now.

Chris pulled out his cellphone and dialed Scott. “We have a general direction. Heading back to talk options.” He hung up before Scott could reply. He just wanted to get back and get this over with. The hunter spun on his heel and bumped into Peter’s back. Chris felt a growl work its way up his chest.

Before he could say anything to the _obstruction_ , Peter whispered, “There’s more to this.” His voice almost broke on the last syllable.

The tone of his voice startled Chris. He had not heard Peter sound that vulnerable in years. He edged around the werewolf and halted, horrified at what Peter was staring at. There, carved into the tree was a reminder of everything Chris had forced himself to forget years ago. A heart was dug into the tree, an arrow slanted through. Inside the heart were the initials PH. Inscribed in the arrowhead, CA.

In that same broken tone, Peter continued, “How do we keep this from them?”

Chris swallowed. “If this is part of what’s happening, we can’t.”

“Coincidence?”

“When have we ever been so lucky?”

Peter’s laugh lodged in his throat. “Never.”

* * *

The pack was already assembled at the McCall house. The trip back had been quiet, contemplative. Memories weighed heavily between them. Chris knew that this was going to rattle Allison and he was not looking forward to dealing with the fallout after they figured everything out.

Peter gazed at Chris. For a brief moment, he wanted to reach out and touch Chris’s hand, just like they had when they were young. Instead, he pushed that part of him down and rolled his eyes. He stepped up to the front door of the McCall house and let himself in. “Honey, we’re home,” he drawled to the group.

The pack barely glanced up. He felt his material was getting stale. Feeling Chris’s presence behind him, he knew that their ambivalence wouldn’t last for long. He was rather excited to see Allison’s face.

Chris stepped around the werewolf. “We found a general location, but Peter couldn’t get much of a read on scent.”

“I couldn’t get much of anything. It was like all of my senses dimmed the moment we hit that section of forest.”

Scott turned to the veterinarian, “Is there anything that can clear an area of scent like that?”

“Several things. There are some creatures that are known to be scentless, as you found with Jackson. There are also a few that can dampen their surroundings almost like camouflage to protect themselves from other predators. But, I don’t think we can rule out this being human either.”

“Human?” Scott asked, worried. “You mean hunter related.”

Deaton nodded his head. “Anise is known to get rid of scent. It’s used often in cleansers and soaps. It also has … interesting … effects on canines.”

“Have you ever seen it used to cover a whole area of forest?”

Deaton’s brow furrowed and his mouth drew taught. “No. If hunters are doing this, it’s something they have only recently developed.”

Chris and Peter came around to stand at the table. Peter picked up the black marker and circled the area they had been in. “This is where we encountered the phenomenon.”

Scott and the rest of the wolves stared at the map. The Alpha shook his head, “There’s nothing in that area that would be useful. It’s over two miles from the Nemeton. There haven’t been any bodies found there and there are no buildings or anything nearby that would give something a place to hide. Why there? It makes no sense.”

The two men shuffled slightly, their arms briefly brushing. Chris yanked his arm from the werewolf beside him. The rest of the pack looked at the two, noting the odder than normal behavior. Scott’s eyebrow lifted. “Is there something about that area that we don’t know?”

Chris looked directly at Allison. “It was a meeting spot.”

Allison’s eyebrows furrowed together. “For you and mom? I thought you met in Washington.”

Chris swallowed. “We did. This was before your mother.”

Peter was morbidly fascinated with everyone’s expressions. He knew this would shatter a lot of long held beliefs, and may even end with him taking a knife in the chest from the fierce, young huntress; but he could not seem to suppress his feelings of vindication.

Chris glanced back at Peter for support, but only received a smirk for his efforts.

Derek was the first to catch the look. “Wait. You two?” He jabbed a finger at the two men in front of him. His expression morphed from disbelief to disgust.

Allison could not contain herself, her jaw dropped in horror. “What?! You dated _that_?”

Peter’s head jerked back. “I will have you know that I was just as attractive then as I am now. And your father was quite handsome himself.”

Allison’s hand flew towards the small crossbow she carried in her purse. Before she could take aim, Chris grabbed her arm and held it to keep the weapon pointed at the ceiling. “Allison, it was a long time ago. I did love your mother, never doubt that.”

Deaton broke into the brewing fight with his ever calm voice, “If this is related we are most likely dealing with hunters. It could still be something else we have overlooked, but all of you should take extreme caution when going into the forest until this is resolved.”

Scott shook his head to clear it from the evening’s disturbing revelations. “Tomorrow we go back out to narrow down the area. We have a starting point. Before we jump to conclusions about who is doing this, we need to find out how large the area is that is being affected. We’ll break into groups of two again and work our way around the perimeter of this section of forest. If there are any signs of hunters or something else taking up residence, call in and we will all come to inspect further. We do _not_ press further into the area than necessary. We don’t need anyone to get hurt because they didn’t have backup.”

Isaac started folding papers and putting things away. He knew that he was sitting in the middle of a potential storm and wanted to get clear before anything else could happen. The rest of the pack all had similar ideas and cleared out as quickly as possible.

Peter smiled at everyone’s nervousness. He was looking forward to putting his hands on Chris in front of the pack and watching their reactions. He shrugged to himself. Chris was physically tugging Allison out to the car and away from Peter as fast as he could manage. Peter’s grin sharpened with every pointed question coming from the girl. He was only upset that he would miss that show down in their apartment. He nodded to Scott and Deaton as he strolled out of the house and towards his own car.

* * *

The next morning found Chris and Peter paired together again. Allison would not leave her father alone and she could not be trusted anywhere in the vicinity of the older wolf. Derek was in a similar state. He had spent years feeling guilty about dating Kate and being the only idiot in the pack at that point to tempt fate with a hunter. He wanted to shake Peter, or rip his throat out again. The latter seemed more likely with every smug grin Peter shot towards Chris and Allison.

The two men started back towards where they had been the day before. Chris would shoot silencing glares at the werewolf every time he would open his mouth. He knew it would not last for long. Eventually, Peter would say what he wanted. He felt himself grimace as Peter finally decided to risk it.

“If this is related to … us, why are they attacking now? For that matter, who would bother with it after so many years? No one knew back then; and I certainly never said anything – or had the opportunity.”

Chris felt himself squirm under Peter’s questioning gaze.

“You know something,” Peter stated.

Chris didn’t respond. He wanted to avoid this talk as long as possible. He had just forgotten how stubborn Peter was.

“Now is _not_ the time to hold back, Christopher!”

“Do you remember when we left the first time?”

Peter wanted to claw the answers out of the other man, but forced himself to be patient. “I remember you not showing up at our spot. I remember being terrified that you had been caught sneaking out after waiting for over an hour. I also remember running to your house and finding it completely empty. There was nothing from you. No note, no hidden message. I tore the garden apart looking for any sign. When that didn’t pan out, I broke into the house and ripped up the carpets, searching for _anything_ that would tell me where you were heading, when you would be back,” he paused, breath slightly ragged, “that you loved me and wouldn’t forget.”

Peter glared back at Chris, eyes sharp and piercing. “I also remember when you came back.”

This time, Chris visibly flinched. He knew Peter would see it as a betrayal. And in his heart, he knew that returning to Beacon Hills with Victoria and a young Allison would hurt Peter. “Peter, I -” he was cut-off as Peter’s hand shot up.

The werewolf was fully focused on the forest. Chris turned his full attention to where Peter was keyed to. The forest was silent. Not a single branch moved. The crickets that had been so prevalent in the earlier part of their journey were noticeably absent. The stillness sent shivers running up the hunter’s spine. His hand drifted to his gun, ready to defend himself from whatever was setting the forest on edge.

Peter’s eyes shifted as he tried to get a better view on what was hiding in the trees. All he could see were indistinct shapes that _could_ be something, but everything about it was setting his nerves on edge. It almost screamed concealment to him. It all felt too planned, too premeditated. He took a half-step backwards when he heard the whistle of an arrow displacing the air around it. He turned and caught the arrow before it could strike. The moment his had clenched around the shaft, he heard the crack of rifle fire and pain erupted from his side. He felt his knees give out from under him as wolfsbane leaked from the bullet into his bloodstream.

“Peter!” Chris moved to stand over the fallen werewolf and shield him from further harm. He brought his gun up in the direction the bullet had come from, but he was having no luck finding the culprit. He grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket with his free hand to dial Scott, but paused when he heard leaves crunching under someone’s boots to his left. He did not want to take his focus away from the shooter with the gun, but these were hunters and he was desperately out numbered.

The crunching got louder and Chris finally turned towards it. “Caine.”

The hunter was a few years younger than Chris, but quite experienced. He was in full tactical gear and carrying a crossbow. “Chris. I have to admit, when I got the call from your father, I never imagined that he would be right.”

Chris’s hand tightened around the grip of his gun. “Right about what?”

The younger hunter slowly started to circle the pair. “He called us, concerned that you would be going back to your old ways now that Victoria is dead. And here you are, standing over the very wolf you were so infatuated with before.”

Chris glanced down at Peter. The werewolf’s blood was starting to turn black as it seeped from his wound. Chris felt true fear for Peter as more hunters came to inspect the scene. He counted at least eight, but he was sure that there were more in the woods and wherever they had set up camp. The hunters calmly approached and settled into a circular pattern, surrounding Peter and Chris. It was disconcerting for Chris to feel so intimidated by people he was used to calling allies, if not friends.

Caine spoke up. “Sorry about this Christopher, but your father gave us very specific orders.”

Peter’s wide, terrified eyes were the last thing Chris saw as one of the hunters behind him struck him on the temple.


	2. Lost Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my lovely betas: SydnieWren and Padamaa!

Peter knew that this was not going to end well for him. In a competition between Peter and Gerard, Gerard won the psychopath contest by a large margin; not that the werewolf had not given it his best try. He started to roll to his uninjured side. He might be surrounded, but he refused to die lying down.

“Ah, ah, ah little wolf,” Caine scolded as he placed a boot on Peter’s chest. “You have some things to answer for.”

Peter held his breath, not allowing a whine to escape. He took in a ragged breath and choked on black blood. The wolfsbane bullet lodged in his abdomen was rapidly poisoning him, pumping through his bloodstream. Darkness started to close in on the edges of his vision. He felt a chuckle work its way up his chest. With how quickly the aconite was acting, he was likely not going to last long enough to be tortured.

Caine looked at the hunter to his left. “Devlin, get that bullet out of him before he dies.”

Rough hands grabbed his arms and yanked them behind his back. The sudden movement made Peter’s head swim and stomach seize. Vomit surged up his throat and spewed into the leaves. By the time he stopped expelling the contents of his stomach, his wrists were bound by large cuffs and he was flipped over onto his back. He wished that he was still distracted because in the next moment, the hunter he assumed was Devlin had forceps jabbed into his wound and none-to-gently grabbed the bullet and pried it out. Peter did let a whine escape his lips then.

The ring of hunters chuckled at his sign of distress.

“Don’t worry, there’s no need to clean it out. After all, we have no intention of allowing you to actually heal.” Caine glanced up and directed his next statement towards a hunter in Peter’s peripheral vision. “Get that hood out, no need to let this one have any idea where he’s going.”

Peter focused all of his attention on his hearing and sense of smell as the black hood dropped over his head. He would need every bit of knowledge he could glean from his surroundings if he was going to survive and escape the grasp of Gerard’s men. He felt himself lifted up off of the ground and thrown into what felt like a wire dog crate. The rustle of fabric and sudden lessening of warmth against his skin told him that they covered him with a tarp to keep prying eyes from seeing him as a hostage in the back of the pickup.

Every jostle and bump through the woods aggravated his side and made his head pound. He refused to give in to unconsciousness. He needed his wits about him. As far as he could tell, they travelled at least fifteen miles north before stopping. They had passed a creek ten minutes before and the forest scent changed from one with more oak to one with more redwood. He may not have an exact location, but if he managed to escape, he was confident that he would be able to find his way back to Beacon Hills.

The tarp was ripped off of the crate and two sets of strong hands pulled him out of the wire pen and onto the ground. Peter tried to get his feet under him, but was rewarded with the butt of a gun to the back of the head. Woozily, he barely held on to consciousness as they dragged him into a building and down a set of wooden stairs.

The two that were holding him up, jerked his arms above his head and clipped the cuffs to something attached to a concrete wall. Before he could get his head to cooperate with him after being pistol-whipped, the black hood was torn off. He clenched his eyes closed at the light in the room, the sudden brightness momentarily blinding him.

Peter squinted his eyes and saw the hunters had all stepped back and now stood against the far wall, looking far too gleeful and anticipatory for his comfort.

Footsteps echoed as someone came down the stairs. The werewolf craned his head as far as he could to his right to see which hunter was going to be picking up where Caine left off. He felt his body shudder as he registered just who had joined this party.

“Hello, Peter,” Chris’s father drawled.

“And I was just getting comfortable too,” he snarked back.

* * *

Chris groaned. His thoughts were fuzzy and when he opened his eyes, everything spun. It was one giant blur of leaves, trees and sky. Within seconds, the hunter’s brain activated and started processing everything around him. He felt physically fine and unrestrained. The sky was still light, but the shadows were longer, casting their dark shapes further across the forest floor. He estimated that he had been unconscious for two or three hours. Certainly not the longest he had been out cold for.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. Seven texts from Allison, two missed calls from Scott and one voicemail. Just as he went to dial Scott for backup, the phone started vibrating. Sliding his finger to the right, he answered. “Scott.”

“Mr. Argent. What happened? Where are you?”

“Same place as yesterday. Hunters ambushed us, shot Peter, knocked me out and from the looks of things, took Peter with them.”

“On our way. Allison and Isaac will be there in five minutes. Stay on the line until they get there.”

Chris heaved himself onto his feet. His head spun briefly, but he managed to stay vertical long enough to make it to the nearest tree. He blinked and everything went dark for what felt like seconds, but must have been much longer because when he opened his eyes, Allison was calling his name and shaking his shoulder. He jerked his head up and looked into his daughter’s panicked eyes.

“I’m okay,” Chris breathed.

He went to push himself off the tree, but stopped when he felt the uneven bark underneath his fingertips. The hunter closed his eyes and swallowed. He could feel the old emotions rising up and almost choking the air from his lungs. This mess was his fault. If he had been a less rebellious son, he was sure that the damage to Peter would not have been so great. The disaster of Peter’s psyche was purely on his shoulders and the guilt was overwhelming.

“Dad. Come on. We have to regroup and figure out how to fix this.”

Chris looked back up into earnest, brown eyes and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get going.”

Isaac took several steps backwards and walked behind the father-daughter duo, not wanting to intrude on an intensely private and emotional moment. He had no idea how this would affect their relationship nor the relationships among the pack.

* * *

Peter’s body thrashed against the chains pinning him to the wall. The electricity sparked every nerve and caused his muscles to contract and spasm. Every time his abdomen clenched, the remnants of the wolfsbane the hunters left in him forced themselves deeper into his tissue. The surge stopped. Peter hung limply, the cuffs the only thing keeping him vertical. Sweat poured from his scalp and down into his eyes. The werewolf blinked to clear his vision as footsteps calmly approached. He lifted his eyes to watch his captor.

The man brought his hand out of his pocket and clicked open his dagger. “That bullet wound looks like it isn’t healing. But, I am sure I can help boost the healing process.”

A scream ripped out of Peter’s throat as Gerard jammed the blade deep into the still open bullet wound. With a feral grin more suited to a werewolf than a human, he twisted the dagger clockwise and pushed in until his hand was drenched in blood streaked with black tendrils. He stepped back to view his work and wiped his hands with a handkerchief.

“Well, that doesn’t seem to have helped.”

Peter glared up at the man he had appropriately nicknamed geriatric psychopath months ago. “Maybe if you tried the other side,” he gritted out.

“By the time we are done here, you will no longer be able to voice your sad excuses for banter.” Gerard strolled over to his table of options. Casually, he considered what to continue with. With sure fingers, he grasped an ice pick in his left hand. He took the ice pick and swirled it around in an oily lilac fluid. In two quick strides, Gerard was across the floor and stabbed the ice pick exactly opposite of the dagger.

Gerard laughed at the writhing werewolf.

“Did you know that Kate was my favorite? She was everything that I was hoping for from Christopher. She came to me one day and told me that she wanted to be a warrior, not a leader. But, she was concerned about one day getting pregnant and it ruining her hunting career in the field. No doctor would help her. They all had this ridiculous notion that she was too young to make such a permanent decision. So, one day, we took a hunting trip and had a little accident. The surgeons did all they could, but there was just no saving her womb. The day she came home from the hospital, I had never seen her so excited. She barely stayed still while she finished healing.”

Gerard stepped back and brought his bloodied knife with him. He tapped the blade against his bottom lip, leaving a splattering of Peter’s blood on his chin.

“My problem was Christopher. We would need a leader and he certainly wasn’t what I was looking for. After all, he had fallen in _love_ with _you_. That weakness could not be tolerated. Fortunately, I found Victoria. She was a hellion. Everything I could have wanted and more. She was a born leader. However, she was the youngest daughter in her family. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I needed a leader to train and she needed a family to lead. Mutually beneficial. Of course, we just had to get him over his pathetic attraction to you. Thankfully, in this business, I have a lot of contacts. A witch who owed me a favor charmed a necklace so that as long as Victoria wore it, Christopher would only have eyes for her.”

Peter growled low in his throat, but it was cut off with a gurgle as blood pooled at the base of his esophagus. Hacking, he spit up the viscous, red fluid and glared at the old man.

Gerard smiled. “Oh don’t worry. I plan to make sure that you are tortured and then put down like the beast you are long before Christopher has the chance to resurrect any feelings he may still have for you. You will pay for Kate’s death and you will suffer and die for corrupting my son.”

He turned back to his arsenal of weapons and picked up an old favorite. There had been no reason to bring it out to play for many years. Just touching the handle of the spiked mace made him shiver in excitement. He would have to use restraint to ensure that he did not kill the werewolf right away.

“Do you know the last time that I got to use this weapon?”

Peter grunted. “Nope. Can’t say that I know how you acted out all of your delusional fantasies.”

“I used it to kill three of Deucalion’s wolves and three of my hunters that wanted peace. I haven’t found any occasion since that is truly deserving of the history of the spiked mace. But, with the history between our families, I think it’s poignant to use it once again.”

Peter screamed as Gerard bashed his right knee with the mace. His bones crunched and sinew tore. He was never so thankful for his accelerated healing when his kneecap popped back into place and his tendons stitched themselves back together. His breathing was ragged as he tried to focus through the pain.

The moment he was able to take a deep breath again, Gerard wrenched the icepick out of his side and rammed it into his thigh. Peter assumed there must have been some residual wolfsbane oil on the instrument because his knee stopped healing.

“Can’t have you healing too fast, now. It would lessen the quality of our time together.”

Before Peter could mouth a retort, Gerard swung the mace at his left leg, ripping open the entire outer portion of his thigh and exposing his muscles to the dank air. Blood ran down his leg in rivers as his body tried desperately to close the gaping wound.

Peter could barely see through the splotches in his vision as he lost blood volume. The pain was so intense that he almost did not feel the old hunter stab his knife back into the morning’s bullet wound.

“What is it that you wolves believe again?” Gerard tapped his fingers on the table. “Oh right, that if you are good little werewolves and receive the proper burial that you will join your pack and Artemis in the Great Hunt.”

Peter lifted his head enough to track the old man’s movements. He winced as Gerard stopped with his hand over a pair of pliers.

Gerard’s eyes sparkled as he glanced back at the wolf hanging from the wall. “While I was convalescing in that _home_ Christopher put me in, I asked some friends of mine to carry on some side experiments on any wolves they managed to capture. The results were … fascinating. I am hoping to bring those experiments to their full fruition with you.”

His fingers grazed the rest of the instruments lying on the table before coming to stop at a syringe full of a clear liquid. “One of the things we found in bitten wolves is that using a combination of drugs, electricity, torture and a few other keys elements, we can separate the wolf from the person. Of course, by the time the wolf was separated, they only lived a handful of hours without that remarkable healing ability.”

Gerard paused and stepped in close to Peter, staring directly into his pain-filled blue eyes. “What would happen if you died human? No proper burial would help. You would spend all of eternity separated from your pack. Not even the solace of death would bring you peace,” he finished with a hiss.

Peter’s eyes glazed with horror. As Gerard’s face shown in triumph, Peter’s lips twisted into a harsh smile. “Then I still win, old man. I may never see my pack again. But someday, Chris’ll die. And then, he’s mine - forever.”

The old hunter screamed in rage and plunged the syringe deep into the werewolf’s chest. Peter’s yell of pain morphed into a howl and echoed off the cement walls of the abandoned building.

* * *

The McCall household was silent and tense. Scott and Derek had been the last to arrive. They spent over an hour trying to follow the tracks the pickup had left behind, but they lost it once the truck turned onto a hard-packed access road. With the area covered in whatever was causing their senses to be dulled, there was no way to follow it further.

Chris stood at the center of the room glaring at the map splayed across the coffee table. “That road runs north and south. South would take them out of the forest entirely and they would risk detection. North is the most likely option.” Chris’s fingers traced the road northward, frowning at the miles of forest. “There are several abandoned buildings not too far from the access road that used to be watch stations for rangers to monitor forest fires. They would be isolated and the basements made of concrete.”

Scott examined the man, concerned eyes following Chris’s hands as they traced the hunters’ likely route. “Any idea which one Gerard would prefer?”

The man’s shoulders slumped. “I haven’t been up that road in years. Some may be torn down, the topography could have changed due to earthquakes and the stream bed – I just don’t have enough information to be sure.”

Allison’s heart clenched for her father. The emotional turmoil that the last two days had wrought in him was something she never wanted for him to deal with again. She could barely stand to be in Peter’s presence, but if his safety was this important to her father, she could handle it. The young huntress took two quiet steps to stand next to her father. Gently, Allison laid her right hand on his left. “Assuming all of the buildings are still standing, which would Gerard most likely use?”

Chris closed his eyes and inhaled. “He would want to get far enough away that no one would be able to easily reach it. But, he’s impatient. Especially when it comes to vengeance. He’ll want to have easy access himself –” Chris trailed off as he dragged his pointer finger along the map. His brow wrinkled in concentration. He snatched a Sharpie from the table as inspiration struck.

Allison leaned in tighter over the map and watched her dad draw and scratch out large swaths of land, eventually leaving only a five mile stretch of the access road. “How many buildings do you think we have to cover?”

Chris snapped the cap back on and gazed at the map in satisfaction. “Two, at most.”

Scott turned the paper around and examined Chris’s markings. “This we can work with.”

* * *

It had been hours since Gerard left. While the other hunters were not nearly as creative and as disturbed as the old man, Peter missed the witty repartee. These run-of-the-mill hunters seemed like they were all brawn and no brains; useful for someone like Gerard, but boring when trying to strike up a conversation.

The one with the crew cut and too much jaw spoke up, “Hey, puppy! If I neuter you, would your boy still be interested?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’d still get more action than you.” He was starting to get the impression that being trapped in a room with these morons attempting to string two words together was the torture.

The brute grabbed a baseball bat and swung it into his stomach. The werewolf groaned. It would not have hurt so much if Gerard had not been so thorough in his torture earlier. Whatever chemicals that maniac had injected him with were still buzzing through his system. His healing was sluggish and not cooperating.

A shrill alarm came from the table holding the mysterious substances Gerard had been measuring out immediately before he left. Peter felt like his head was wrapped in cotton. He instinctively knew that the alarm should have made his ears feel like they were prying themselves off of his skull. Whatever was in that mixture, it was dulling everything werewolf related. He would have said it was dampening all of his senses, but he could feel pain just fine.

Caine grunted as he levered himself off of the wall he had been observing from. “Looks like it’s time to give you another dose of your medicine. You know, after five doses, the last wolf we used this on could no longer shift and started to freak out when she couldn’t sense the beast inside her. I have no idea how long it will take to work on you, but I hope I am here to witness you lose your shit.”

Peter sneered. “Technically, I lost my shit seven years ago and acted on it one year ago. So sorry, you’re a little too late to that party.”

“You won’t be so cocky in a few minutes,” Caine said as he jammed the needle into his arm.

The werewolf hissed as the serum rushed into his blood stream. His veins felt like they were on fire. It radiated out from his bicep and raced down to his fingertips, it spread upwards to his shoulder and then down to his chest and heart. Once it reached his heart, the pain became unbearable. The poison flooded his system and boiled his blood. He felt a scream wrench itself from his lungs. He could feel the pressure behind his fangs build as they wanted to force their way out, but the toxin locked them away. Finally, the pain overrode his brain and he fell into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

The pack watched the run down ranger station from the crest of the hill. There was one truck and one large SUV parked outside the front door.

Chris scanned the surrounding area through his binoculars. “I don’t see my father’s car. With the two vehicles here, I’d say there are a maximum of six hunters.”

Scott snapped his claws out, “I like those odds.”

Chris placed his binoculars back in their case and set them down next to the fallen limb he was sitting next to. “Stiles, if you hear the signal or if this takes longer than ten minutes, call your father for backup.”

Stiles’s lips formed a protest, but let out an indignant huff when Scott placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dude, if there are more than six in there we are going to need help. And lots of it. If you are in there too, how are we going to get back out?”

Stiles glared at his best friend and waved his arm above his head, “Fine! Go sacrifice yourself for Derek’s crazy uncle. I’ll just sit here and pray that there aren’t any hunters in the woods happy to take me out like the bump on a log I’ll be pretending to be!”

Scott wrapped his arm around Stiles and pulled him into a tight hug. “We’ll be okay. We have three werewolves and two hunters and you watching our backs to make sure we don’t get in over our heads.”

As Scott pulled out of the embrace, he glanced at Allison and Chris. “The wolves will go in first. The both of you are far better at range and once we take care of whoever is holding Peter, we can find him and get out. Our goal is to knock them unconscious; we don’t need any other hunters coming here to seek vengeance. If anyone takes them out permanently, it’s Chris. Are we clear?”

Isaac and Derek nodded, lips pursed and muscles taut.

With one more look over his shoulder, Scott nodded to Chris and quietly made his way down the hill, Isaac and Derek following suit. Chris and Allison waited until the wolves cleared the hill and crossed the road before venturing down the treacherous terrain.

By the time Chris set foot on the road, the wolves had reached the door and ripped it off its hinges. Growls echoed and rolled out of the small building interspersed with rapid pops of gunfire. Chris checked Allison’s position and signaled for her to approach the door. Her stance shifted as she lowered her crossbow and stepped to the right side of the door, ready to back up her father.

Chris counted down on his fingers from three and swung into the open door, pointing his Desert Eagle into the room. Three of Gerard’s men were already down for the count, but the blonde did not see Caine yet. If his father was missing, there was no way Caine would be too. Cautiously, Chris entered the room, sweeping for any more hunters. Allison entered and kept tight to his right and monitored the far corner and door.

In a hush, Chris asked, “Any more men?”

Derek and Scott both shook their heads.

The young Alpha replied, “None up here. But, we haven’t found Peter yet. If there are more, they are most likely with him.”

Derek focused his attention on the heavy door towards the back of the main room and took a sure step forward. Before he could get any further, Chris grabbed his arm with one hand and took the lead. If there were hunters past that door, they would have wolfsbane bullets and the werewolves would become a liability.

Chris stalked down the wooden stairs. The smell of blood blotted out everything else and his heart beat faster, terrified of what condition he would find Peter in. His feet lightly touched the concrete, bringing him into the basement-turned-torture-chamber. The sight of Peter’s wrecked form dangling from heavy metal cuffs took his attention away from his situation until a sharp twang came from behind his shoulder and air dispersed by his ear.

His sights quickly turned toward Caine, sprawled on the floor, crossbow bolt sticking out from his left shoulder, gun slightly out of reach. Chris was never so thankful for his daughter’s amazing aim and focus. His voice deep and angry, Chris warned, “One inch towards your weapon and we’ll see if you like the taste of a .45.”

Caine leaned back and pressed his hand around the shaft of the bolt. “Your father was right. You really have chosen these mutts over your own.”

“Allison, make sure he doesn’t escape.”

The huntress stowed her weapon and grabbed the nearest set of shackles. She looked where Peter was hanging and gave a small smile. Without pause, she wrenched his injured arm harshly behind his back, forcing a yell to escape the hardened man.

“I’ve always enjoyed the idea of karma,” she told the hunter with a smirk.

Just as Derek and Scott freed Peter and pulled him away from the wall he had been chained to, Allison signaled to Isaac to help her with the heavier man. One heft from the werewolf at her side and she was able to hook the shackles on the ring that was just cleared, leaving Caine suspended and bleeding. She knew he would be free in a couple of hours when the other hunters woke up, but it would be a painful few hours he could spend contemplating his decision to follow her grandfather’s orders.

Chris flicked the safety of his pistol back on and jammed it back into his thigh holster. His eyes felt deceptively moist as he took in the broken sight of his first romance. Roughly, he moved Scott and Derek out of the way and took Peter’s weight on himself. He knew it would be easier for the werewolves to get him out of the basement, but he could not bear to let anyone else touch him until he was sure that the wolf would make it.

He turned to the stairs and addressed the people behind him. “Someone get one of the cars started, we need to get to Deaton’s.”


	3. Karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has helped get this fic completed and a special shout out to Naemi for being so amazing to edit this chapter!

Brow furrowed in concern, Deaton flushed Peter’s wounds. He had already changed out the IV fluids and was now well into the second bag. Peter would normally be showing some signs of healing as the toxins were diluted and slowly flushed out of his bloodstream; but, the wounds kept bleeding sluggishly, small spirals of black mixed with the red.

Deaton brought his surgical instruments to the metal table and began the slow process of stitching up the numerous deep gashes. Several minutes in, Scott appeared from the back room bearing clean bandages and antiseptic. Silently, he cleaned the used instruments and set more suture thread out. The two men worked together quietly, used to each other’s workflow.

While the vet patched up Peter’s torso, Scott carefully cut away the remnants of his pants. The wolfsbane had followed the veins, turning them black; but his lower legs remained otherwise undamaged. Above the werewolf’s knees was a completely different story. The multiple punctures, tears and gashes may have cost Peter at least one limb, had he been human.

Scott started disinfecting the mangled tissue. He had barely made it halfway up the left thigh when Deaton finished closing the last wound on the abdomen. Silently, they switched positions and Scott began to clear the surgery area of used gauze and bandages. While he gently disposed of the bloody mess, he did a quick assessment of the supplies still needed.

“Be right back,” he whispered as he passed Deaton on his way back to the storage closet.

Scott filled his arms with gauze and grabbed a couple more bottles of isopropanol on his way back. As he rearranged the supplies on the surgical stand, he sent a concerned look to his boss. “What’s stopping him from healing?”

Deaton shook his head. “I have no idea. The wolfsbane has already left his system. It has to be something else the hunters have invented. I would assume it is along the same lines as whatever they came up with to block your sense in the forest.” The vet wrapped the last bandage around Peter’s right thigh. He lightly patted the unconscious man, before looking back up at Scott, “That should do it for now.”

Derek followed quickly by Chris appeared at the entry to the surgery room. Scott pulled two chairs from along the wall and set them on either side of Peter.

Derek sat stoically in the seat facing the door. Chris took the empty chair facing away from the waiting room. The hunter clenched his hands a couple of times before giving in and taking Peter’s limp left hand in his. Scott ducked his head and excused himself to take the trash out to the dumpster. Deaton gave Chris a small smile and moved the now empty trays out of the way.

Chris let his eyes roam over the wounded man. He wasn’t used to seeing any werewolf still this long once they were allowed to begin healing. “What’s wrong with him?”

Deaton sighed, shoulders drooping slightly. “Something new. I haven’t run across anything like it before.”

Chris gripped Peter’s hand tighter. “They were experimenting.”

The vet nodded. “It seems that way.”

A low growl rumbled through Derek’s chest.

Chris ran his free hand over Peter’s torso. “Something this thorough and devastating didn’t happen overnight. This is too skilled for a first try. They’ve been practicing. Gerard would have kept records of his trials.”

In a voice more growl than English, Derek asked, “What types of records?”

Without looking up, Chris responded, “Documents, journals . . .” he paused before admitting the last, ". . . videotapes.”

An angry growl came from behind Chris, and the three men looked up at an irate Allison. “Where would he keep them?” she ground out between her teeth.

“They would be on site until they were done.”

“You mean until the werewolf was dead.”

Chris nodded and continued, “When they finished, they would take all of their records and store them somewhere secure.”

“So what they did to Peter is likely documented and still at the ranger station.”

He nodded at his daughter.

Derek stood and patted Chris’s shoulder before striding out of the clinic. Allison pursed her lips together and spun on her heal. She swept up her bow and quiver as she followed Derek out and back towards the preserve.

* * *

Allison and Derek approached the ranger station quickly and quietly. They paused at the top of the hill from which they had originally ambushed the hunters. The pickup was gone and the dirt parking area empty. Allison raised her binoculars and switched on the infrared.

“I don’t see any movement outside,” she whispered.

Carefully, they approached the building for the second time that day. Derek flared his nostrils, scenting the air every few yards. His eyes flashed blue when they arrived at the broken door. Derek nodded to Allison to signal that the building was all clear. They stepped through simultaneously, alert to any sound or movement. The three hunters they had left upstairs were gone, but broken furniture and bullet casings still littered the ground.

This time through, the two took the time to truly inspect their surroundings. The main room was clearly some sort of sitting room with only three doors: the front, the basement, and one that led to a small bathroom. Allison opened the cupboard and medicine cabinet, but found them barren. She turned and rejoined Derek in the large room before entering the basement. The two cautiously walked down the stairs, not sure if the hunters had laid any traps despite their hasty retreat.

Derek and Allison were horrified now that they had the chance to fully examine the place where Peter was tortured. Blood coated every surface, with the largest amount in a pool by the wall where Peter had hung. Derek was too upset to speak as he took in the instruments lying on the table and scattered on the floor nearby. All of them looked used.

Interrupting his depressed thoughts, Allison handed him a bag she had picked up from the floor. “Here, fill this with everything they could have used.”

Being careful not to touch any potentially contaminated surfaces, Derek began to pack away the instruments. Using the towels that were kept on the cleaner side of the room, he set the vials of swirling lavender and unknown chemicals on the top of the bag. He hoped that there was enough left in them for Deaton to analyze.

Allison startled him when she slammed a door that looked like it went to a storage closet. She had found another bag and stuffed it until it was overflowing with DVDs, journals and more vials full of the various mystery substances. Derek kept quiet at the thunderous look on her face. She pulled the bag onto her shoulder and determinedly walked by him. He felt dirty just being in the tainted space; he didn’t want to imagine how unclean she felt with the knowledge that the perpetrator of this macabre scene was her own blood.

* * *

The ride back to the clinic had been completely silent. Derek did not know how to address Allison after she had been faced with such a stark reminder of her grandfather’s evil. He had barely put his SUV in park when Allison swung the passenger side door open and hopped out, heading directly for the clinic’s glass front door.

The two walked through the empty waiting room. Allison opened the mountain ash gate for Derek and followed him to the back room where her father was still sitting by Peter’s side. She couldn’t make out what he was whispering to Peter, but she was sure that whatever it was, he could never have brought himself to say it if the werewolf was actually conscious.

They deposited their bags on the desk in Deaton’s office. Derek carefully began unpacking the wrapped vials and organized them according to color and size. Giving the stack of evidence one last look, Allison strode out of the office and to her father’s side.

Scott joined Deaton and Derek, and began to pull out the journals and tapes from the bag Allison had dropped off.

The veterinarian examined Derek’s shaky hands before addressing him. “Scott and I can handle this, Derek. You can rejoin your uncle if you like.”

The distraught werewolf shook his head. “Chris is with him.”

Deaton gave him a tight smile. “Then why don’t you start on some of the older journals. I’m sure that Scott can handle the recordings.”

Scott nodded and woke up the office computer. The DVDs were labeled with a code of some variety, but he had no intention of bothering either Chris or Allison to decode it. Selecting a case at random, he started it up and brought out a clean piece of paper to take notes. Anything he could glean might prove valuable in helping Peter recover from Gerard’s twisted ministrations.

Derek and Scott each had to take breaks from the journals and recordings to handle the gruesome details they contained. Derek closed the second journal and tied it shut with the leather strip attached to the cover. He passed his notes over to Deaton, who was busy with one of the clear vials. The beta rubbed his eyes and looked over to his alpha.

Scott was staring at the screen, clearly struggling with what he was seeing. The longer he watched, the more his hands shook and made his writing illegible. The computer monitor went dark when the recording ended, likely along with the life of whichever werewolf was unfortunate enough to be snared by the hunters. Scott removed the DVD from the drive and clicked it back into its case. He carefully and deliberately set the disc down with all of the reverence reserved for those who have passed. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand in an attempt to conceal the tears that were already trailing down his cheeks.

Derek moved to stand behind Scott and brace him for the next, surely disturbing, recording of torture. He knew that he had gotten off lightly with the journals. Scott was not so fortunate.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured.

Derek sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes at the young man. Instead, he dragged his seat around and set himself next to him. He picked up a disc at random and inserted it into the drive. Thirty seconds later, he removed it and replaced it with the next in the pile. On the fourth disc, they finally ran across the footage of Peter.

Deaton came over to watch, hoping to get some idea of the dosage and order of the chemicals. He knew they would all be painful, but he wasn’t sure if any were purely for the torture or if they all had some hidden purpose in suppressing Peter’s healing.

The three men watched as Gerard tortured the captured wolf. Even knowing the end result did not prepare them for the shear brutality of the elderly hunter. Their horror only grew as Gerard explained Kate’s psychotic actions. When Gerard finally told Peter about his and Victoria’s plot to control Chris, they stopped the disc.

Scott stood up and walked to the front of the desk. “I knew he was twisted and a complete sociopath, but I never expected him to be _that_ evil.”

Derek grimaced. “I don’t know how Chris ended up so stable. It’s clear everyone around him was manipulating him to feed their need for murder.”

“And what are we going to do about all of . . . _this_ ,” Scott swept his hand at the collection of toxins displayed on the desk, “being in his system?”

“The best we can do right now is to continue the saline drip and hope that it eventually dilutes the serum enough that his healing can take over. Go ahead and start another bag, and send Chris in.”

“What about Allison?”

“I’d leave that up to Chris.”

Scott nodded and returned to where Peter lay, still gaunt and pale, with the hunter guarding him while he slept.

Chris looked up as Scott started preparing a third bag of IV fluids. “There’s been no change.”

“We’re going to keep the fluids up and hope that it clears his system enough for him to start healing again. We weren’t able to find any details about possible antidotes, just lots of recipes with different quantities of chemicals and herbs. The tapes were more important. Deaton wants you to go watch them for yourself.”

The older man pinched his eyebrows together. “Why? Deaton is more than capable of analyzing footage.”

Scott fiddled with the control valve, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “It’s about something Gerard did after he found out about the two of you dating when you were younger.”

Allison turned to her father. “I’m coming with you.”

“Allison –” Chris began, but she raised her hand.

“I know that whatever is on that footage is going to be awful. But you can’t see it alone. I’m not letting you deal with whatever it is by yourself. We’re all we have left.”

The hunter glanced over at Scott, who had given up the pretense of working. “What did Deaton say?”

Scott stared at Chris for a few moments, weighing the man’s resolve. “He said you can bring her if you want. But it’s up to you.”

Chris snorted and rolled his eyes at the vague instructions that were so typical of Deaton. His gaze softened and crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he looked back at his daughter. He closed the distance and kissed her on her forehead. “You can come.”

They walked side by side to Deaton’s office, taking strength from each other for whatever information awaited them. As they entered, Derek got up from his seat and glanced at the vet. He tentatively rested a hand on each of their shoulders. The werewolf ducked his head and exited quietly to keep vigil by Peter’s side.

Derek gave the two a sympathetic smile. Allison sat in the seat vacated by Derek, while Chris took the chair directly in front of the computer.

“I’m not going to show you all of the footage, just the section with Gerard.” The vet hesitated, fingers hovering above the mouse. “I will understand if you decide not to watch this, but, there are some things that need to be heard straight from the source to believe them.”

Chris and Allison both nodded. Deaton clicked play and left the room, closing the door after himself.

* * *

Allison gripped her father’s hand when the recording ended. She turned to examine the door, contemplating who lay beyond it. “Dad, I love you. Whatever you need to do, I understand.” She twisted back to her father and hugged him tightly. “I’m going home to clear my head.”

She opened the door and swiftly moved through the clinic and out into the night. Derek followed her cue and rose, silently exiting and heading back to his loft.

The third IV bag was almost completely empty by the time Chris returned to the surgical suite. He resumed his set numbly. Chris barely noticed taking Peter’s hand in his as thoughts swirled around in his head. He had always known that his father was twisted, but to be so deeply betrayed by his wife, his one constant in the last eighteen years, was earth shattering.

“Oh God, I knew it. I’m dying.”

Chris jumped in his chair. “Peter . . .”

The tone in Chris’s voice made the wolf blink and focus on the hunter’s face. “You know.”

Chris nodded, tears building behind his closed eyelids. “I am so sorry. So sorry . . .” He breathed heavily, trying to hold back the sobs. “If I had known – I _swear,_ I had no idea . . .”

Peter gripped the hand holding his. He scrunched his face, trying to make sense of the stuttering apology spewing from chapped lips. “I know.”

Chris broke down; the pain of the betrayal cut him to his core. He bent his body over Peter’s and sobbed into his chest. Peter freed his hand and ran it over the other man’s back. The drugs the remained in his system made the room spin, but he was determined to hold Chris for as long as he could.

* * *

Chris stalked down the hallway of the hospice center where he had placed his father. He was tired of the old man’s platitudes, excuses and manipulations. When he reached the last room on the right, he wrenched the knob and threw the door open with enough force for it to slam against the wall. Chris’s blue eyes narrowed in rage when he saw his supposedly gravely ill father standing in the middle of the room talking on a new cellphone.

Gerard turned and immediately ended his call. “Christopher.”

Chris gritted his teeth. “How long does your little serum last? How long until it is completely flushed from his system?”

Gerard flashed a sadistic smile. “I don’t know. We’ve never let it work itself out before. It will be good data to have, thought.”

Without any thought, Chris’s hand went for his pistol and drew on his father.

Gerard chuckled. “Don’t even try pretending to be Kate. You were always the weak link in this family. No idea how to perform your duty. You let those beasts live and roam free when they should be kept on a tight leash and killed when they object. You’ve always lacked conviction to the cause, Christopher.”

Muffled steps shuffled around the corner of the door and into the entryway. Peter leaned against the doorjamb, using it to support his weight to save his legs the pain. His knees were shaking from the exertion of trying to keep up with the determined hunter.

Gerard sneered. “Back together with the mutt, I see. You were always such a disappointment. Nothing like Kate or Victoria. Such a shame to the Argent name.”

The old hunter’s rant was cut short as Chris clicked the safety off of his Desert Eagle. “To quote you, ‘You are the only piece that doesn’t fit.’” He squeezed the trigger and breathed out as chunks of his father’s skull splattered the wall.

Peter hefted himself from the doorframe and took two small steps to reach Chris’s side. With more care than he had shown anyone, he laid his right hand over the one still holding the gun. Chris blinked and let out a shaky breath. His nerves tingled and his hands shook. Slowly, the hunter lowered his pistol and placed it back in its holster.

A smirk playing on his lips, Peter gazed at the body of the most notorious and feared hunter of the past fifty years. Deep satisfaction thrummed through his body, vengeance finally served. He ran his hand down the strong forearm of the man beside him and laced their fingers together. Peter could not refrain from having the last word. “You know, it’s a good thing the Sheriff likes you. I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain this.”

Chris rolled his eyes at the familiar snark and freed his hand, only to wrap it around the Peter’s waist.


End file.
